


Backup

by ZoeSong



Category: C.B. Strike, Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith, Strike (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, Major Character Injury, Male-Female Friendship, Partnership, Post-Lethal White, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:13:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24943666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZoeSong/pseuds/ZoeSong
Summary: Robin’s in trouble and calls Strike for help.
Relationships: Robin Ellacott & Cormoran Strike, Robin Ellacott/Cormoran Strike
Comments: 8
Kudos: 55





	Backup

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to Swimmingfox and LulaIsAKitten for advice on British lingo. I didn’t ask them everything, so there are likely to be some Americanisms anyway. Mea culpa.

~~

Strike’s phone buzzed just as he had sat down to watch the football match. He sighed, not really wanting to talk to anyone, but he reached for the phone. It was Robin. Odd that she was calling, not texting, especially on a Saturday when the only time they generally called each other was if there was something really pressing on a case. He picked up. “Robin.”

“Cormoran…hi.” Robin’s voice was tentative and tense, and Strike immediately sat up straight. Something was really wrong.

“Robin? What’s wrong? Did someone hurt you?”

He could hear her release of breath over the phone, then she hurriedly reassured him, “No. Well, yes. I hurt myself.” Another release of breath. Was she having a panic attack? But she would just do her breathing exercise on her own if that was it. 

“What happened?”

“It’s stupid…. I’m sorry to be calling you, but—”

“What? What is it?” He was getting really worried. “Where are you?”

“I’m home – I’m safe. It’s just…I’ve hurt my back. I was hoovering and I went to shove the sofa over like I do most every weekend, but for some reason it stuck and I shoved too hard and my back just spasmed.”

“Ow.” He was relieved, but sympathetic. 

“Yeah. And I thought I’d be okay, just went for a bit of a lie down to see if it would ease.”

“And no dice?”

“No, that was hours ago. Cormoran, I’m stuck in my bed! I need to get up, but every time I try to move it’s excruciating. I feel like I need a hand up.” He could hear that she was nearly in tears. “I hate to bother you, but Richard is out of town and I’d call Vanessa but you—”

“…have a key to your place. I’ll be right there. There’s not a chain on the door?”

“No, we just have a dead bolt.”

“Right, got it. You need me to bring anything? You got paracetamol?”

“I…think so. Probably. I should have taken some before I lay down.”

“Doesn’t matter, I’ll bring some.”

“Thank you, Cormoran.”

“It’s no problem – I’m on my way. About 20 minutes, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, see you then.”

~~

Cormoran pulled on his leg, grabbed his jeans, and got dressed again quickly. He fished around in the cabinet for paracetamol and realized it was down in the office, but found some muscle relaxants he’d used some months back and slipped the bottle in his pocket. As he grabbed his coat from the rack, he noticed his walking stick leaning against the corner by the door. He nabbed it, just in case. He’d had plenty of his own back pain associated with his leg injury, and the stick had come in handy. 

Retrieving the paracetamol from the office — and a packet of biscuits and a few tea bags, just in case, Strike left the building within five minutes of hanging up with Robin.

Five minutes later he was threading his way down the escalator into the Tube.

In the Tube, he found people moving out of his way even more than they usually did, and while the crowds were lighter than on weekdays, there weren’t any seats in the car he was in. But someone waved to get his attention, and he was surprised to see that they were offering him their seat. He started to shake his head, but then realized that they had seen his stick, which he had been leaning on, since he happened to have it along. Seeing as how the person in question had already gotten up, and that he’d had a week full of surveillance, and faced a bit of a walk and a climb of three flights of stairs at the other end of the ride, Strike took the seat with a grateful nod to the young man who’d vacated it.

As he rode, he thought about how mortified Robin must have been to have had to call him. At least, that’s how he would feel if he had been her position. He recalled how helpless he’d felt when he’d fallen and had to call Lorelei, and was glad that he could be there to help Robin.

~~

Arriving at Robin’s flat, Strike let himself in and called, “Robin, it’s me!”

“In here.” Her voice came weakly from down the hall. It sounded like she was forcing back tears. 

He made his way to her bedroom, the first he’d been in there, and found her, clothed in tracksuit bottoms and a vest top, lying on her back on top of the duvet. 

“I’m sorry to drag you over here.”

“It’s no problem. You’d do the same for me – have done, actually.”

She sighed. “I kept trying to turn on my side, pull myself up, but I can’t get a proper grip on the mattress, and my back just keeps seizing up.”

“Yep, I know how that is.” All too well. 

“What do I do? I can’t just lie here forever. And, oh, God, Cormoran, I really need the loo!”

He chuckled. “Sorry. Right, then, I think it’s best if you turn on your side like you’ve been trying to do. Tighten your core, then take my hand to pull yourself over. Don’t forget to breathe. And it’s okay if you need to yell. It helps to groan through it.” He braced himself so she could pull on his hand without pulling him over. 

“Okay.” After a few false starts, gritting her teeth and giving a few little yelps of pain, Robin managed to turn on her side. She lay there panting for a moment.

“Good!”

“Can I rest like this for a minute?” 

“Sure.”

Robin clung to his hand for a moment then seemed to realize that she didn’t need to if she was resting, and released it, grasping at the edge of the bed instead. She took a number of deep breaths. “Okay, I think I’m ready to try to sit up.”

“Right, then. Remember to tighten your core before you ease your legs over the side of the bed. Let gravity help.” 

Strike put out his hand again. Robin grasped it, took another breath, and groaning in pain, but breathing through it, struggled to a sitting position. 

“Well done.” He squeezed her hand and she smiled weakly up at him. “Now we just have to get you all the way up.”

“Let me get my nerve up.”

“Sure.” 

Once more Robin rested, then nodded and they went through the process again to get her standing. She couldn’t straighten properly, and Strike gave her his arm as she hobbled to the bathroom. When they got to the door, Strike told her to hold onto the doorway and then he retrieved his cane from the front room. “Here, give this a try. Might help when you need to raise or lower yourself.”

“Oh, bless you. I was just wondering how on earth I’d manage in there.”

“I know. Take your time. I’ll make us some tea.”

“Thanks, you’re a saint!” She smiled gratefully at him and hobbled into the loo.

A little while later Strike was setting two mugs of tea on the small kitchen table along with a plate of the biscuits and the paracetamol and muscle relaxants he’d brought. He was starting to wonder if Robin was stuck in the loo as she’d been in the bed — and what on earth he was going to do about it — when the door opened and she walked haltingly out, relying heavily on the cane. 

“Need some help?”

“No, I think I’m alright.” She blushed. “The stick really helped, thanks.” She navigated her way over to the table and negotiated herself onto the chair, wincing as she settled stiffly into it. “Whew. That’s a relief.” 

Strike raised his eyebrows at her – it wasn’t like her to refer to bodily functions if she could avoid it. 

She gave him a wry smile back, then started to bend to sip her tea. “Ouch!” She pulled back to lean on the chair back, her hand gripping the table. “Ooh, ooh.” She let out a breath, clearly in pain.

Strike winced at her as she shifted uncomfortably.

“Maybe I’ll just wait a bit.” Robin sat back in her chair.

“Want one of these?” Strike handed her the bottle of paracetamol. 

“Yes, please.” She shook out two tablets and set them beside her cooling tea.

“I also brought you these.” He showed her the other bottle. “Muscle relaxants. I usually take both.”

Robin looked at him skeptically. “I’ve never taken those before.”

“It might help. Of course, what you really need is a chiropractor.”

She grimaced. “I’ve never used one of those either. It just sounds too scary to have someone crack your back.”

“It is a bit scary, at first.” He considered for a moment. “More that it’s uncomfortable, but it does bring a lot of relief. I’d take you to mine, but he won’t be open until Monday.”

Robin gave him a noncommittal murmur, and started to sip her tea, then reached for the biscuits. “I should probably eat a little something before having the pills.”

They drank their tea, ate biscuits, and Robin took the paracetamol. Every so often she wriggled in her chair, trying to get comfortable. 

“Might be better on the sofa.” He’d noticed that it was a large, very comfortable-looking sofa. Robin’s roommate had expensive taste.

“Ironic, isn’t it?” Robin glanced ruefully at the offending sofa. 

“Can’t believe you tried to move that on your own.”

“Usually it slides right over the floor. I guess it caught on the rug there.” She struggled to rise, then grimaced in pain.

“Come on, I’ll help you up.” Strike came around to her side of the table and offered an arm. He noted that Robin gritted her teeth as she rose.

They went slowly over to the sofa, and holding Strike’s arm, Robin cautiously eased herself into her usual spot, squeaking slightly as she bent. She sighed as she settled into the sofa. “That’s better. Thanks.”

Strike took the spot at the other end, giving her room to lie down if she felt like it.

“You don’t have to stick around — you must have been doing something before I called.”

He glanced at the television. “Actually, I was just sitting down to the Arsenal match.”

“Oh, sorry. Have you missed it all? You can watch it here if it’s not too late.”

“That’s okay. I don’t have to watch it. You don’t really like football, do you?”

“I don’t mind. I certainly saw enough of it growing up with three brothers.”

“I’d imagine so.”

“Go ahead, turn it on. Please. It would be a good distraction.”

So Strike switched on the match, and they were just in time to see Sheffield United score. Strike groaned. 

“You mustn’t have worn your lucky socks.”

“What?”

“My brother swears that his team wins when he wears his lucky socks.”

Strike laughed. “I guess that’s been the problem all along. I’ll have to get some.”

They watched a bit longer, but then it was half time.

“So what were you going to do for dinner?” Biscuits could only go so far with Strike. 

“Vanessa and I were going to get Chinese takeaway. But since she couldn’t come, I was just going to make some pasta.” Robin looked a bit pained as she glanced towards the kitchen. Strike sympathized. The last thing he wanted to do when his back or leg were bothering him was fuss in the kitchen.

“Let’s get Chinese.”

“Sure. I have the phone number in my mobile.” She looked around and blew out a breath of frustration. “Which I left on my night stand.”

“I’ll get it.” 

He retrieved the phone and she brought up the number and placed their order. “I’m paying,” Robin declared. “It’s the least I can do.”

The Chinese food arrived, and they ate while watching the rest of the game.

Strike groaned at regular intervals as Arsenal got its arse kicked.

Robin groaned at regular intervals as her back continued to spasm whenever she tried to move.

“Robin. Why not try the muscle relaxants? They might give you some relief.” Strike retrieved the bottle and brought it to her, along with a glass of water. “Go on, take two. They can’t hurt.”

Looking at the bottle with trepidation, Robin blew out a puff of breath, and popped the bottle open. She took two of the pills and handed Strike the bottle. “Thanks.”

“Nah, you keep it. You should take them three times a day. But I’ll put it here so you can get them easily later.” He put them on the table, then settled back on the sofa. “Give them about a half hour to kick in.”

“All right then. Let’s find something else to watch. You can pick.” 

“It’s your turn.” He handed her the remote. 

A quiz show had come on. “I don’t think I have the energy for Pointless Celebrities.” She flicked through the channels, and stopped on a documentary hosted by Prince William. The narrator was saying, _“Why do British men struggle to talk about their emotions?”_

“Oh, this looks promising.” Robin laid the remote down on the arm of the sofa and carefully settled back onto the sofa.

Strike groaned inwardly, regretting giving up the chance to choose the next show. But then the screen flashed on a series of football players, and the narrator mentioned William’s concern for male mental health in Britain, saying, _“As a real fan of the sport, William has seen the way men express their feelings at football games. Now he wants to help men show the same passion and openness away from the game.”_

“Ooh, that’s brilliant.” 

Robin was clearly interested, and frankly, Strike was interested at least so far as the interviews with footballers was concerned, so he settled in. 

It was an interesting programme, and Robin and Strike exchanged a few comments along the way. But about halfway through, Strike turned to ask Robin something and saw that her head was drooping. The medication must have kicked in. 

“Robin.”

“Hmm?” 

“Your head is drooping. Maybe you should go to bed.”

“No, I’m all right. Don’t want to get stuck in there again.” She focused on the TV again. “It’s a good programme.” Then she sighed and glanced over at the cushions on the sofa. “Maybe I’ll just lie down here for a bit.” She carefully laid herself sideways, pulling her legs up into fetal position. 

So they watched the rest of the programme, and Strike had to admit that the premise was sound. He wondered if Robin had gotten enough out of it to use on a client – or him. But when he turned to ask her, he realized that she’d fallen asleep. She seemed comfortable enough, but it surely wouldn’t be good for her to be in that position all night.

“Robin, let’s get you to bed.”

She lifted her head, looking around groggily. “Umm, yeah, okay.” 

Strike helped her to her feet again, found her the walking stick and her mobile, and waited for her while she used the loo again. Then he helped her into her room and steadied her while she managed her way into bed, this time under the covers. He propped the stick against her bed stand, laid the mobile next to the lamp, and prepared to leave.

“Well, then, if you don’t need anything else, I’m off. But call me in the morning if you need help.”

She was quiet and he thought she was already asleep again, but just as he turned to leave, she muttered, “You could stay.”

Strike froze. It seemed too intimate, even if he slept on the sofa. “Um, I don’t think that’s a good idea.” 

“But it’s no trouble,” she mumbled. “Richard’s away for three weeks. Said it was fine if I wanted to have someone over…they could use his room. “’Nessa was coming for a girl’s night in.”

“Yeah, well, that was Vanessa.” It was tempting; he wasn’t really looking forward to the walk back to the Tube or the trip back tomorrow if she still needed his help. “I’m sure he didn’t mean me.”

“He wouldn’t mind you.” She giggled as if she were drunk, “It’s not like he’d mind having a man in his bed.” 

Strike chuckled, “Har har.” And yet he really didn’t want to refuse. “You’re sure?”

“I’m sure.” She readjusted her head more comfortably, then raised it slightly. “Oh, and there’s bacon. For breakfast. Real bacon, I splurged.”

“Well, that seals it.”.

She chortled happily and settled back on the pillow. 

“Right, thanks.” He saw that she was drifting off again, so he backed away and headed out of the room.

As he meandered down the hall to see about the other bedroom, he mused that while he wouldn’t wish a bad back on anyone, the situation had made for a pleasant domestic evening with Robin. He knew he was getting too close to her, but somehow, it wasn’t mattering as much to him. Maybe, just maybe, they were drifting together naturally. 

And if ever she was in trouble again, he hoped he'd be the one she'd call for backup.

~~

**Author's Note:**

> Whew! I don’t know why, but this story (and all my stories lately) really gave me grief. I started it during the second week of the Covid lockdown after I’d hurt my own back from being on the computer too much (I started it in my head, and only wrote it down after I was feeling a little better). Being a high school teacher, I was doing distance learning with my students, and had to be on the computer for extraordinary amounts of time. So the story remained sketchy until now, during summer break, when I have more time. I think all that distance learning sort of drained me, so please forgive me if the story isn’t quite up to par. 
> 
> I also borrowed my own experience when I’d hurt my back doing housework (it was laundry, not vacuuming) years ago. After a tense spring semester and a marathon of grading, I simply turned and bent the wrong way, and voilà, my back spasmed. Initially I thought it was going to ease, so I continued with my laundry, but when I leaned over the upstairs railing to allow a sheet to hang over the bannister, I was seized by a paroxysm of pain. I hobbled into my son’s bedroom, which was closest to the railing, and lay down on the bed, figuring I’d let it ease a bit before getting back to housework. It was a hot day, so his room was preferable to my own, where the phone was. So in my case, I had no phone by the bed – my cell phone was downstairs, and I was alone in the house (my son was still in school at that time; my husband was at work). So I was trapped in bed. I finally had to force myself out of bed, screeching in pain, and called my chiropractor. But he was out of town! So I had to suffer for a week. I went to the doctor, she gave me muscle relaxants, and they just zoned me out, didn’t cut the pain. I recall lying down on the couch, just like Robin, going in and out of consciousness.
> 
> Also, it occurred to me that lower limb amputees like Strike would likely suffer from back pain since they might be favoring their “good” leg, causing them trouble in their hips. Sure enough, a little googling, and I found [this,](https://www.dorset-ortho.com/en/get-to-know-us/resi-rehab-blog/low-back-pain-in-amputees/#:~:text=Many%20of%20our%20clients%20with,for%20the%20non%2Damputee%20population.) which says that amputees suffer from back pain more often than not. 
> 
> For any of you who like to picture where things are, Earl’s Court would be the Tube stop for Robin, who is supposed to be living with Ilsa’s gay actor friend, whom I’ve named Richard. While Tottenham Court Road Station is the closest Tube station to where Strike lives on Denmark Street, it’s actually quicker (according to Google maps) if you take the Leicester Square station because it gets you directly on the Piccadilly Line which runs straight to Earl’s Court. 
> 
> Also, the Prince William show is real, called “Football, Prince William, and our Mental Health.” You can read more more [here](https://www.bbc.co.uk/iplayer/episode/m000jkbr/football-prince-william-and-our-mental-health). I was just looking to see what they might have found on TV after the match. The documentary was actually on earlier (Sat. June 27), but I took a bit of artistic license. I wonder if we’ll get that show over here across the pond. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! Comments are greatly appreciated.
> 
> ~~


End file.
